


Baking With Captain Rogers

by Bouzingo



Category: Marvel
Genre: Baking, Holidays, M/M, Sam's mom - Freeform, mentions of recovery from PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:42:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2846486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouzingo/pseuds/Bouzingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darlene Wilson still hasn't met her son's new boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baking With Captain Rogers

They tell you that the military makes your children stronger, Darlene Wilson thinks, but it was a quiet one they gave her, after two tours they only made her son quiet.

 

The first day Sam was home he just broke in Darlene’s arms, crying like he had when his father died and not stopping until he fell asleep. And then he was so dreadfully quiet. Sam had never been a quiet child; he was an opinionated kid without a quiet moment in the day. But silence started stretching over him like saran wrap , until Veterans’ Affairs finally started paying him mind and he started coming into his own again.

 

After two years of therapy and support, he could finally talk about Riley like it didn’t tear a wound in his throat, he could finally turn the keys in his car without the latent fear of an IED. And if, before he moved to DC, there were still nights where he got up and paced the house, checking locks and windows, then that was something he could handle without going quiet.

  
So when Darlene turned on the news and saw her son strapped to those godforsaken wings, falling out of the sky while being shot at by neonazis (for God’s _sake!_ ) she felt the simmering, helpless rage she hadn’t felt since Paul was shot in the street.

 

She calls her son.

 

“Are you trying to break your mother’s heart?” she says before Sam can even say hello.

 

“Mom,” Sam says, and there’s an explanation attached to that which Darlene doesn’t want to hear.

 

“I am so angry I can barely speak, Samuel. Where are you?”

 

“I’m at the hospital.”

 

“Are you hurt? _Were you shot?_ ”

 

“No, I’m… waiting on a friend,” Sam says. “I’m fine, mom. I can’t tell you much more, but I’m okay.”

 

“Is your friend badly hurt?” Darlene finally asks after a long silence. She thought she could hear a tremor in Sam’s voice, and nothing terrifies Sam more than losing family or friends.

 

“Yeah. The doctors say he’s going to be okay,” Sam says. “Ma, I’ll call you when I can leave the hospital. But I’m okay, and I’m safe, I promise, and I’ll tell you more. Bye. I love you.”

 

Sam calls back, as promised, and Darlene finds out the person she should be angry at is Captain America, who’s also the friend in the hospital.

 

“You don’t look for this kind of trouble. That man thinks he can ask anything of anyone. Your grandfather knew a lot about that kind of army man, Samuel.”

 

“Mom, he didn’t coerce me or anything,” Sam says. It sounds like he’s in a supermarket or something. “I wanted to help. I still do.”

 

“You worked so hard so you could be at peace, Sam,” Darlene says. “I hope you and he both appreciate what this means.”

 

“I do. And I know he does.”

 

After that, Darlene doesn’t see her son for a whole summer. But he calls and writes and keeps her updated. He seems happy, despite of or maybe because of whatever it is he’s doing in various places around the world. He always liked to travel.

 

Darlene puts her foot down at Thanksgiving though. That’s a time for family, and it’s been a hell of a year. Sam agrees, after a fashion.

 

“Is it all right if Steve comes?” he asks. “He hasn’t got anywhere to go for Thanksgiving.”

 

“You know my rule,” Darlene says. “Family and significant others. No strays.”

 

“Mom,” Sam says. “I know the rule. I guess I just haven’t told you. Me and Steve are an item.”

 

“Are you,” Darlene says, “and when did this start?”

 

“A few weeks ago. In Italy,” Sam says. Darlene’s silence must speak volumes, because he sighs. “He’s not taking advantage.”

 

“Well I can’t judge that, honey, because I haven’t met the man,” Darlene huffs.

 

“You’re going to, ma,” Sam says.

 

“At Thanksgiving? Really, Sam.”

 

“We’ll come home a bit earlier,” Sam says. “I’ll book the tickets right now.”

 

True to his word, Sam shows up a few days before Thanksgiving with Captain Rogers in tow. Darlene takes one look at him and she can see how this man was once four foot nine. He looks mildly terrified, and holds a pie in front of him like a buffer.

 

“Mom, this is Steve,” Sam says with a bright smile. “Steve, my mom.”

 

“Sam’s told me a lot about you,” Steve mumbles. “It’s an honour.”

 

“A baker, I see,” Darlene says, and looks at the pie. Apple. She’s not sure what she expected. “Pity. We have a surplus of bakers in this house around Thanksgiving.”

 

“Mom,” Sam says.

 

“But I _do_ need help baking for Thanksgiving, and Samuel is hopeless in the kitchen. Sam, I have a list for dinner. Could you run to the supermarket and get them for me?”

 

“Aw man, good luck,” Sam says, kissing Steve’s cheek. Steve honest to God _blushes_. Darlene gives Sam a list and he goes on his way.

 

“I have concerns,” Darlene says, after she’s assembled all her ingredients and given Steve an apron that barely fits. “About you and my son.”

 

“I understand that,” Steve says.

 

“I’ll sift the dry ingredients, you do the wet,” Darlene says shortly, and then continues. “Sam is a helpful, sunny boy. He’s very prone to helping others at his own expense. You must know that by now.”

 

“Yes Mrs. Wilson,” Steve says.

 

“And if you dare take advantage of his nature in such a way that he begins to put your well-being before his, I will never forgive you,” Darlene says. “He needs every inch of love and care that he gives away returned to him. He deserves nothing less than that, because he’s my baby before he’s your boyfriend, or hero for hire. Whatever it is you two do. You’ve mixed those ingredients enough, Steven.”

 

“I love Sam,” Steve says, handing her the bowl. “I promise you on my life, I won’t ever ask anything of him without thinking about whose son he is, and who loves him most.”

 

Darlene makes a noncommittal noise, and starts incorporating the ingredients while Steve stands there looking kind of unmoored.

 

“I don’t suppose those big arms are good for kneading dough, are they?” she finally says.

 

Steve practically jumps at the chance to be useful, and by the time he’s done Darlene has three balls of dough that look like they were mixed by machine.

 

“Well,” she says, eyebrows raising incrementally. “Do you make bread often?”

 

“I guess I must just have applicable skills,” Steve says. “That’s good then?”

 

“You’re doing great,” Darlene concedes. “Just a few more batches and I think we’ll have enough.”

 

“Hey, I’m back,” Sam says, coming into the kitchen with a couple of paper bags. “You guys can stop talking about me now.”

 

He watches them bake and cook, as well he should. Despite Darlene’s best efforts and despite a genuine love for food, Sam was never good in the kitchen and always better when he was watching and tasting.

 

Darlene doesn’t miss the way her son’s eyes light up when he meets Steve’s gaze, the way he smiles for a little while after that. She certainly doesn’t miss how Steve blushes down to his shoulders and takes special care with cookies that are tiny in his hands.

 

He’s careful, gentle, and softspoken, nothing like the Captain America that Darlene learned about in school or saw on the news.

 

They stay for dinner, and have apple pie after with a beer. And then Steve gets up to help with the dishes.

 

“Oh please, Steve,” Darlene says. “I think that you’ve kissed enough ass for one day. I’ve got the dishes.”

 

Steve stays seated after a glance from Sam. Darlene smiles in approval, and leaves them to their talk.

 

When Darlene comes back, Sam and Steve are about ready to leave, and so she sees them to the door. She gives Sam a long, lingering hug and pats him on the shoulders.

 

“You’re looking well, Sam,” she says.

 

“He’s good for me,” Sam says.

 

“Don’t overstep yourself. Only time will tell,” Darlene says with a warning in her voice. “But for the time being I like him.”


End file.
